Prisoner
by Stall Walt
Summary: Who's the one trapped by who?


"Thanks for dinner, dad! Best turkey you've ever made!" Lincoln exclaimed as he laid back in his chair, feeling comfortably stuffed.

"Thanks for the compliment, son! I knew that those few improvements that I made to the recipe worked like a charm." Lynn Sr. grinned as he rubbed his chin in a self-satisfied manner.

Rita lightly slapped her husband on the head. "Just be sure to tell the rest of us what you are planning next time."

Lynn Sr. smiled ruefully. "Of course, dear."

Lincoln yawned as he stretched his arms upward. "So good in fact, I think I'm gonna go hit the hay early today."

That got everyone's attention at the table.

"B-but you promised to help me with some fashion ideas."

"I could have used some help with my poetry."

"Now who's going to help me practice for the pagent next week?!"

Those were a few of the comments that Lincoln heard as he got up from his chair.

"Girls, girls..." Lincoln said as his hands waved downwards in a placating gesture. "I promise, I'll do it tomorrow, okay?"

The sisters looked at each other before nodding, slowly dispersing and leaving the room.

"Good night." Lincoln called out, recieving a few mutters in return. Cracking his neck a bit, he began to ascend the stairs when he noticed someone about to come down.

"Lisa, where were you? Busy performing a few experiments in your room." Lincoln asked, a small smile gracing his lips.

Lisa nodded. "That is indeed correct, and I was hoping to obtain some nourishment before continuing further."

Lincoln nodded back as he moved past her. "Alright, you have fun with the turkey. It's pretty good tonight. I'm gonna go ahead and catch a few z's."

Just before Lincoln reached his room, he felt someone tap on his arm. Looking back, he saw Lisa stare at him, blinking before trying to compose herself.

"Before you go into REM, may I recieve a gesture of familial affection?" Lisa asked, her arms open.

Lincoln snickered. "Just call it a hug already. You're four years old, you have plently more time to act your age."

Lisa adjusted her glasses, the cute four year side of her giving way to the normal Lisa he knew.

"I believe the apprioriate phrase for that is 'overrated.' Also, I believe you are the last person to talk about 'acting your age.'"

Lincoln shrugged.

"I'm eleven, sue me. Do you still want your hug?"

Lisa didn't answer, simply moving in closer and wrapping her arms around Lincoln's waist. Lincoln gently smiled before returning the gesture. The two stood there for a couple of moments before Lisa broke the hug and stepped back.

"Very good. May you have pleasant REM experiences." With that, Lisa walked around the corner and disappeared down the stairs.

Shaking his head, Lincoln opened his door and flopped down on the bed. Stretching out his leg, he closed the door before letting his leg flop over the edge. Sliding his hand under his pillow, he felt a bit of relief as his hand clasped around wood.

'Good.' Lincoln thought to himself as he closed his eyes. All seemed quiet, until Lincoln heard it. It was slight, the tiniest sound that probably wouldn't have been detected in a place as loud as the Loud house, but Lincoln had trained himself to hear it. It took a few night but the sound was unmistakable.

Gas passing through a valve.

Lincoln took the deepest breath he could without giving away his disguise. He relaxed his frame and moved his chest, making it appear that he was breathing the gas in. Completing the illusion, Lincoln flared his nostrils and blew through his mouth a manner that looked like he was breathing normally.

He kept this process up before he was sure that the gas was dissapated enough for him to breath normally. Still, he kept up the illusion of being asleep until he was sure that she was asleep.

Finally, after a long time of waiting, Lincoln opened his eyes. Getting up from his bed, he began to do a couple of stretches. Waiting...waiting... Lincoln nodded to himself. Nobody came, which meant that she hadn't noticed yet.

Grabbing the object underneath his pillow, he pulled the claw hammer out and gave a few experimental swings with it. Satisfied with the weight, he stuck the hammer into one of his pants' belt loops. Quietly creeping to his door, he placed his ear next to the door and listened closely. Hearing nothing, he nodded to himself.

Now or never.

Quietly opening the door, he crept to the stairs. Instead of going down the stairs, he leapt over the rails and stood on the outside. Climbing down, he stopped as soon as he hit the floor, listening for anything that signaled that someone noticed him.

Nodding to himself, he ventured into the kitchen for anything he could scavenge. Opening a couple of the cabinets, he found a bottle of wine. He was able to grab it, when he felt a presence behind him.

"Lincoln, what are you doing down here so late?"

Lucy.

"I was getting a drink of water."

"...Lincoln, what are you doing with that hammer?"

Dang it.

With a fluid motion, Lincoln lashed out with the claw end. Feeling something stop his swing, he quickly ripped it out. As he grabbed the bottle of wine, he looked down.

Metal. Wires. Circuitry. All of those were where blood and bone should have been.

And Lincoln didn't pay the site a second thought as he opened a drawer and pulled out a lighter.

Time to go.

Stopping only to rip the sleeve off the robot's clothes, he ran to the basement door and charged through it. Regaining his balance, he stuffed the sleeve into the bottle as he ran down the stairs. Jumping off the stairs, he charged full speed, his eyes focused on one spot on the wall.

SMASH!

Lincoln crashed through the wall, the bricks and metal doors providing little cushion for Lincoln as he rolled on the ground. Getting up, he looked at the metal hallways, uniform and clearly impossible to navigate. Any other time, Lincoln would have given up and cried.

This wasn't one of those times.

Lincoln got up and started running through. Coming across a crossroads section in the hallway, he turned left without pausing. Coming across one doorway, he lit the molotov cocktail and smashed it on the ground, turning the area into a inferno. To anyone else, it would have looked like madness.

To him, he was just following the ghosts of himself.

If two ran into the other hallways, he took the one that was empty. If one ran to the left, he ran to the right. If one ran to the right, he ran to the left.

And while one hesitated to destroy the multiple sisters that came to get him, the rest and him immediately struck.

Finally, he came to a hallway where his phantoms didn't exist. He ran full-speed, his heart pounding, his legs pumping. His eyes widened as they saw a door. He instantly knew.

Freedom.

Smashing right through it, he looked around, before staring at the veritable army that was blocking his way. It was strange seeing multiples of robots bearing the faces of his sisters and parents, their devoid of the affection they have for him. It was stranger that he was already going to be alright smashing his hammer into their faces.

What gave him pause was the person in front of this army who clearly stood out.

She was older, taller, and now wearing a white lab coat, but it was unmistakable who this woman was.

"Lisa."

Older Lisa didn't respond at first, her eyes sad.

"Lincoln. Please go back to the house, and this will be just a dream to you."

Lincoln shook his head.

"No can do, Lisa. I want out of here, and if it means right through you," Lincoln smacked the wood of the hammer against his palm. "So be it."

Lisa didn't even react to the threat.

"Lincoln, please. You are not ready for the world out there."

Lincoln merely leaned his head to the side.

"Are you sure about that?" Lincoln leaned his head to the other side. "Or is the world not ready for me?"

"Lincoln..." He could hear it, the pleading in her voice.

"Hey, Lisa. You wanna hear the definition of insanity?"

"You're not going to stop, are you?"

"The definition of insanity is... doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result."

Lisa fell silent, but gestured to her army. They stilled, ready to be deployed at a moment's notice.

Lincoln merely grinned.

"So...which one of us is crazy?"

* * *

Sorry if it feels rushed and didn't convey what I wanted to. Had to make something slightly spooky before the month ended.


End file.
